Cashman: Mister Steinbrenner would also like to remind you that he still has those Super 8 films of you in full clown make-up, pleasuring a camel.

Tschida: …er, we could probably get one more in.

Cashman: Make it so. ::hangs up:: I just want to get Jeter up there. We can crack this thing, Headwarmer. I truly feel it.Headwarmer: You wanna feel something? Stick to feeling on that pathetic jay-jay of yours. I’m soaked to the core!

Headwarmer: This is what you’re clinging to, people? You’re eleven games out, off a 1-7 road trip, and the only thing that’s incredible about your savior, Roger Clemens, is that his baloney tits haven’t caused his uniform to burst open mid-pitch, sending buttons flying into the crowd to blind or maim priests and children.

Headwarmer: You’re all crazy. Delusional! I’d rather set myself on fire than spend another day in this madhouse! ::Shakes himself as book of matches falls to the floor. Tries to reach for them:: F-ck. I forgot. No goddam hands.

Cashman: Hey, let’s get this party started! ::Takes off suit to reveal “Rock Out with Your Cock Out” T-shirt:: I’m gonna put on some Blues Traveler!

Tschida: I’ll cue that up for you right away, sir!

* * * * * * * *

* I know Tschida wasn’t the only one pulling the strings last night, but I still hold a grudge for the infamous “Phantom Tag” incident in the 1999 ALCS. The worst part, of course, was during his post-game press conference, in which he kept referring to Chuck Knoblauch as “Knobby,” as if he was gonna go hang at the corner malt shop with the fellas after the game. Deplorable.

** That’s exactly how it’s described in the AP story. Jete clapping his hands in delight. Wow.